Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from France and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Move to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Oneida. All the underground hits.
All Harpers Bizarre tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Panda Bear,
New Order,
Prince Buster,
Minny Pops,
Junior Murvin,
Visage,
Television,
Arcadia,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gang Starr,
Oblivians,
The Fall,
The American Breed,
Alison Limerick,
Mr. Review,
The Fugs,
Jerry's Kids,
Supertramp,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fluxion,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Roxy Music,
This Heat,
Fat Boys,
Procol Harum,
Dual Sessions,
The Beau Brummels,
Cybotron,
Black Pus,
Black Sheep,
The Tremeloes,
Fad Gadget,
The Dead C,
Camouflage,
China Crisis,
The Mummies,
Pantaleimon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Icehouse,
Pussy Galore,
Warsaw,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tom Boy,
John Foxx,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kas Product,
Mark Hollis,
Buzzcocks,
The Moody Blues,
Danielle Patucci,
Con Funk Shun,
Ice-T,
Skaos,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Searchers,
The Young Rascals,
Joe Smooth,
Gang of Four,
Stereo Dub,
Groovy Waters,
Gregory Isaacs,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.